~Why?~
"I Don't Know."
"Wait a second." Spike pulled his head away from the book in his claws, closing it swiftly to analyze the thought that almost blew his brains out. "Why am I doing this for? What's the point to any of this?"
A pair of lavender ears perked at the drake's question, their owner looking toward him. "What's the point to what, Spike?"
"Any of this," he replied, looking around at the shelves filled with books surrounding him. "What's the point to any of this? Why are you and I reading books right now? Why are we even talking right now?"
Twilight squinted her eyes at the drake, scanning for subtle hints that he was joking at the moment. When she saw nothing but confusion painted across his face, she felt the same phenomenon occur to her's as well. "I don't quite understand what you're getting at, Spike. Was your new book a little too confusing for you? Is there something I can do you for?"
"I'm the one asking the questions around here, Twilight. Do you understand that?"
Twilight felt an influx of anger began to stir in her chest. "What the heck are you even going on about, Spike! What makes you think you can just talk to me like that!?"
"I SAW THAT." Spike crossed his arms and leaned his weight onto one leg, glaring into the mare's soul. "You think I don't know you're still asking questions just because you put a '!' in front of a '?'? You might as well put the '?' in front of the '!', as I'm far too clever to not pick up on when you're trying to ask questions."
Twilight shook her head to try and shake away the stupidity in her mind, but try as she might, the nagging problems of the current situation would not leave her. Why was Spike randomly having a mental break-down? Why was he being so rude to her when she was only trying to help? Why do dragon's have mental breakdowns? Surely they don't have the mental acuity even to have a mental breakdown.
"HEY." Spike crossed his arms under they begun to cross around his back, though the sight looked more like Spike hugging himself more than anything. Maybe that's what he needed more than anything at the moment: a hug. "DOn't think I don't know when you're asking questions in your head."
Why was Spike suddenly getting prissy with her? Why had she shown up to the library for only the front and back door to be locked, forcing her to creep through the open window on the second floor, and obliged to creep past the drake that had locked her out by mistake in the first place? Surely, if someone does something as cruel as locking them out, then that pony is allowed to pass through their room without any regard if they wake them up by mistake.
"I can tell you're making assertions in your head." Spike began to turn his head around, trying to spin it all around, but he forgot that he wasn't an owl. So he had to stop spin!ning his skull. "But that would take me away from the trail of your questions. Keep doing that, and I'm burning the library down."
Why was Twilight even thinking right now? Why think at all? Sometimes, thinking made her a better pony able to make better life choices. Thinking made her think of clearer ways and better outcomes, as well as improving her skills. She would think about improvement: she always had to improve herself. That's just they way thinking went.
But sometimes, thinking made her sad. THinking made her think, that because she thinks, she's better than some ponies. But horses should never think they are better than other ponies, but she was worried, that if she didn't think, that she would become worse than some ponies. Is it truly a crime to compare yourself to other ponies? To what they are and who they are like? If it is a crime, who pays the most? The one comparing? Or the one being compared too?!
"That's it." Spike began to wind up his body, despite not being a wind-up bird nor an owl. "I'm burning down the library. There's no point to it, y'know? I'll just burn it down, just because the sole reason of you asking questions, even in your head, is enough to merit it in this world."
Should Twilight compare herself to her friends? Each is unique in their own ways, coming with their strengths and flaws. That's what makes a good character, isn't it? Strengths and flaws? But isn't it better to just steal her friend's strengths, and leave their flaws for them to keep? She'd become the best princess known to pony kind, because she would take those things that made her five friends great, and she would live on to be the greatest.
Only because she stole what made them, them, to become what she compared herself to in her head. It made perfect sense, of course, as well as the emerald flames spewing across the library. It blanketed the floor in a sweep, eating up the wooden floors like they were nothing, and consuming the plethora of knowledge that was the books lining the shelves.
Yes, Twilight would go on to be the greatest friend stealer that ever lived, and this thought even caused her to sprout some wings. Of course, however, wings were far less resistant to flames. But Twilight continued to stand there, with her wings, wondering if these questions were of her's, or if they were of Spikes.
Speaking of Spike, he was walking out of the library now, with the flames warming his scales in their embrace. But she continued to stand there, amongst the inferno slowly consuming the library, thinking about the best way she should leave the scene. Should she walk straight through the fire and the flames, or should she fly over the heat? Wouldn't it be better to duck under the heat, because heat rises?
What about her books? Was there any possible way to save her books from the green flames? She should, because books were her life, part of the reasoning why her ingenious mind achieved the nirvana that made her famous worldwide. So she would have to save the books, but apparently, she couldn't save all the books.
That meant she had to save the best books. But what were the best books? Was it the ones that built her into the character today? Were they the ones that made her the big smarts? Were they the ones that held fond memories? Were they the ones she didn't quite understand?
Twilight continued to question herself in her mind, thinking about the best way to escape the flames, while the library burnt around her.
Spike ignored the fire sirens flooding the streets he was currently residing on, looking up to the sky to find the sun at it's apex, and wondered if the sun was always on fire. Of course, the sun was really hot, because the air around him was warm. That's how he could tell that the sun was on fire – because the air around him was warm.
But he needed something to drink down that warmness, so he went to buy some candy.
Spike went to the candy store.
Not knowing why.
He had a gun.
With a very special liquid.
The pink mare behind the counter.
Pulled out as one.
And the two squirted at each other.
Not quite knowing why.
They enjoyed sweets as they got each other wet.
Knowing full well.
That the sun was made of ice.
Spike sprouted wings. He didn't know when, but he didn't question why? The questions would come by themselves? And since he never had an answer to the questions? They tended to get sadder? So he left the questions be, for there was nothing he could do about them.
???????
??????
??????
"Oh hi Dash."
The wonder bolt looked over to her left, to find a rather groggy, his eyes sealed behind heavy eyelids.
"My name is Steve."
Spike opened his eyelids but kept his eyes close. "Oh."
"And by the way."
"Yeah?"
"Those aren't wings." The wonder bolt did a barrel, speeding as far ahead as he could to practice, as well as screaming his final line to the drake. "You've just attached full-size windmills to your back."
Spike looked his back to find two windmills, each bigger than Cantorlot Castle, struck into his back. "Huh. I guess they were picking up on the wind to keep me afloat, but when I realized just what they were, I felt their unbearable weight and fell back to the earth."
That proceeded to happen exactly as he had said, but try as he might, Spike had just one question to ask: "Why is Rainbow Dash calling herself Steve?"
Spike had never feel good inc. for so long. He had talked to the devil, who had offered him some tea, and had made an offer that he had no refused. The had offer, in which Spike had come to find, was to have his had life back in exchange for the windmills he had in his back.
That, and his left eye.
So Spike walked around an eye patch now. He remembered this one guy from a comic, a boss, but to him, he was a big boss. He imagined himself as big boss now, but only he fidgeted with his eye patch and how it strapped around his head to even be considered cool. Still, he walked around not as he was actually like, but as how he saw himself. He wondered if the big boss would be proud of him or not, or if we would allow him to board piqoud to go and slay Moby dick.
Speaking of dicks, Spike found himself at Fluttershy's cottage. But it wasn't a cottage anymore, for all her pets had died, so now it was a cemetery. Fluttershy was standing at one of the graves, one of her bunnies, and a tear left her eyes. They also stung too. The tears stung her eyes. Spike wondered what it would feel like for tears to sting his eyes.
It had been a long time since Spike had last cried.
So he went over to Fluttershy, who embraced him and made his shoulder wet with her tears. He tried to cry as well, but couldn't tell if he was crying or not, because it had started raining. So he wasn't sure the droplets of water on his cheeks were tears, rain, or Fluttershy's tears. She kissed him, by the way, and Spike didn't know why.
Did he want her just to kiss him?
Or did he want to go on about how her lips felt against his?
Or did he was the describe the sensations coursing through the rest of his body because of the kiss?
Or did he want to explain the meaning of the kiss?
Or did he want to wonder what the kiss meant next?
"This doesn't make any sense," Spike said to himself, and his friend turned lover, but he wasn't talking about the previous sentence thing. "Why bury your animals? It ma~akes nooo sense! You have up your home, everything you fought for, and the land below your feet just for their dead bodies. But it's not like you can sleep with their dead bodies and pretend that they're actually alive, snuggling close to them under the sheets."
Spike dropped to his knees and began to dig the graves, as Fluttershy watched horrified from behind. "You should be thinking of better things you can be doing, with both your life and your land. These dead bodies here will do nothing besides act as compost for the land, but they could be put to better use. But you shouldn't feel guilty."
Spike held all 117 dead bodies in his arms, craning his neck to see the mare past the clump of bodies. "When a body loses its life, that body no longer belongs to that life. It belongs to whoever finds the body, whether it be water, grass, sand, dirt, someone or the ground itself. Since we're smarter than the planet, I think, we should choose the best thing to do with these dead bodies."
"Like what?" Fluttershy was scared to ask, but asked anyway.
"Something like the best possible outcome," Spike said, turning the bodies into diamonds, and smearing them on his face. He felt himself going nuclear with love for the mare. "I love you, Fluttershy. I love the way that you look, and your personality is something to die for, if these once dead bodies are any indication."
"I...I love you too...Spike."
"I don't know what to do with my life, nor is there any point to it." SPike continued to rub diamonds over his face. "But I want to invest all that I have into you, because I have nothing else to invest in. You understand, don't you? That the stocks of the world are confusing and seem superficial, whereas you look real, like a pig I can shove money into."
"I've never had my beauty told to me in such an ethereal way."
Spike began to throw diamonds at her. "Never, fear, Fluttershy. YOu can take all that I have, for I'm not worth much. But considers the monies you get from selling these diamonds as my child support money for the next 69 years, okay? Rebuild your house, but don't have the kid."
"Okay," she nodded with a tear. Their life had been so perfect, but it was time for them to move on. She would never forget him, no the length of his tail.
So the hero and the villain went their separate ways. But which one was which?
That's right.
Twilight was still thinking inside the library.
As it turns out.
Wings are fire ressient.
Spike found himself in a clothing store looking for soup. As it turned out, however, this store did have soup – only it wasn't a store. It was Rarity's kitchen, but there was something to Rarity's kitchen that no other clothing store had:
Soup.
But as he went to go fetch himself some soup, the alabaster unicorn of the hour danced into his way, and obstructed his path. "What are you doing, Rarity. It's like, 2 AM, why are you dancing in your kitchen with the kettle boiling and music blaring into your ear."
Rarity didn't reply at first, swinging her hind legs sideways at a time, and rolling her fore hooves together. Occasionally, she would strike them into a direction in the air, before trying out a new dance more. Often, she would look at her reflection in the window's glass, and judged how her moves were looking. Were they cringe? What needed to be improved?
Finally, however, the kettle was beginning to blow, so Rarity knew she had to answer quickly.
"Because it's Friday night [extended], Spike." She bobbed her head left and right, left and right, swinging to the beat, and feeling the feeling in her heart. Nothing else mattered in the world, because she believed herself to be good, and having a fun time being in rhythm to the tune. "I need to improve the little thing whenever I can, so that, when it comes to the time when it will matter, I can step onto the stage without a sweat, and drop that sick beat. Part of not caring stems from practicing whenever you can, till the point it doesn't feel like practicing."
"Is that how ponies become cool?"
Rarity nodded her head, finishing her song, and pouring herself a cup of tea and coffee. She took a sip from both, before smashing them against the wall, and dying on the spot.
Spike did not turn her body into diamonds, instead of stepping over it, and grabbing some soup from the Kobain. He poured the soup on her for some reason, before deciding to go home.
The drake went home.
"Weird, how did I end up on a farm?"
Spike was on a farm.
"This is not home."
Spike walked onto the farm.
"But I'm too tired to go home."
Spike walked across the farm.
"So I guess this will be my home for now."
The trees were semi-transparent, and the sky was gray yet white, like mirrors that reflect the ground an infinite amount of times. SPike didn't feel like he was standing on the ground, but rather, the white space between lines on an outline. He wondered why he wasn't falling, but then remembered, the golden rule.
Don't ask questions?
"Why hi-ya Spike." Applejack said with both her accent and not, deciding to omit what made her, her, whenever it suited the nature of the prose. "How are you doing on this fine day?"
"Fine day?" Spike repeated, looking around himself, and ignoring the golden rule. "There's nothing to this world at all. It's like a weak glue is trying to keep up crumbled papers inside of a burning library? But why is the glue even bothering, there's no point it suffering – to it enduring."
"There's always a point to enduring, Spike." Applejack said as she wrapped a hoof around him, pulling him close to her orange chest and holding him close to her heart. "If ya can enduring the suffering, you'll become stronger. The more suffering you place on yourself, the more chances you have to endure, which will alway make you stronger. You should never let suffering break you down, for that makes you like everyone else."
"Everyone else..."
"Exactly. No narcissist wants to be like everybody else." She said, a drawing of the sun rising behind the thinly lines trees. "You gotta endure the suffering to become an interesting character like me. Ya gotta be able never to give up, no matter what, to prove just how great you are. Make sure, that when you do something great, you tell everybody about it."
"Uh..."
"Make them revere in how much you've suffered, and how much more your willing to suffer. Tell them to place a gun against your head to show just how far you're willing to suffer for yourself – oops, I mean for everyone else! Be great, Spike. That's the only thing that matters. Not on accepting yourself for who you are, or others on what they're trying to become, or the world for what it is. Just become great, and all those other things should align."
"But why?"
"Disney Land."
"What?"
"Because when you've achieved a genius and work effect like Disney, great things just pop out of you naturally, and whatever you say or do is great. So everyone wants to visit your land, to try and become you, but they aren't willing to suffer.":
"O-Okay."
"Are you ready, Spike? Are you ready to suffer?"
Spike looked to the trees, ripping out a spine from his back, and beginning to paint the scene.
"I am."
"Good."
The two began to suffer on the farm, in the attempts to become something great.
